Preparing For The Silence
by Little Box Of Secrets
Summary: Sequel to "Silence Meets Belgravia" We all have bad dreams, things that haunt us more than others. Most people find there's not a lot we can do about them, but as always, Rose Spencer isn't most people.
1. Chapter 1

Summary:

Sequel to "Silence Meets Belgravia" We all have bad dreams, things that haunt us more than others. Most people find there's not a lot we can do about them, but as always, Rose Spencer isn't most people.

**Preparing for the Silence**

**Continued Silence**

Shutting the door behind the suited man, smug in his obvious victory over the competitive woman, Rose leant against the back of the shiny door, trying to regulate her breathing again.

"Sod..." She muttered, trying to get her heart rate back to normal, willing the small organ to relent in it's excitement.

That was the problem though; she had enjoy it.

She frowned slightly, realising that she really was starting to enjoy the older man's company that little bit too much.

Not really feeling all that social all of a sudden, she decided that she just wanted some down time to be by herself, rather than with her two flatmates.

Shaking her head, clearing it - mostly - of what just transpired, she took a final calming breath and went to her room, deciding that the first thing she needed to do was put on some music.

Setting the musical devise to shuffle, she turned up the speakers and threw herself backwards onto her bad, hearing the drums and guitar sound out first, closing her eyes as she realised what was playing.

_Just typical…_she thought, wanting to know how - after so many years, even on shuffle - how she always got something that described exactly how she felt.

Sighing, she just sang along as the chorus kicked in, a genuine smile slipping into her features as she did.

"_He's a good time Cowboy Casanova,_

_Leaning up against the record machine._

_Looks like a cool drink of water,_

_But he's candy coated misery._

_He's the devil in disguise,_

_A snake with blue eyes,_

_And he only comes at night,_

_Gives you feelings that you don't want to fight,_

_You better run for your life…."_

Smile slipping off her face again, she wondered if she really should just back down before it went too far, knowing that deep down, she really didn't want to.

This is how she spent most of her day, eventually getting round to doing some random doodles on a bit of scrap paper she found, but mostly thinking about the powerful genius she had seen that morning.

Eventually, she heard a loud rumble sound over her now melodic music; her stomach growling at the lack of food it had been given throughout the day. Checking the time and finding it was around eight in the evening, she thought it best to get some food before turning in for the night.

Discarding her notebook and pen, designs of swirls and random crosshatching littering the page in no definitive design, she got up off the bed and made her way upstairs.

Peering into the living room, she found John at the desk, cup of tea in one hand, the other scrolling through a webpage on his laptop. He was the only one there though.

Frowning she asked. "Where's Sherlock?"

John looked up, obviously in a world of his own. "Oh...umm… said something about _checking the network…_?" He told her, not knowing what it mean, though he saw Rose knew. "Do I want to know what he's doing…?"

Rose just chuckled. "Homeless network." She told him, going through to the kitchen and looking through the cupboards. "He makes sure they're generally okay and they give him tips, keep an eye on the streets, you know?" Looking in the fridge, she found a cheese and onion pasty - among other things - deciding to just eat it cold. "Helps him to know what's going on around the city and it works for them; someone to look out for them."

John nodded, looking impressed before going back to his laptop.

Looking around, Rose found it strange with no Sherlock around, like there was something missing. "When did he go out?"

John wasn't paying much attention though, too engrossed in what he was doing. "Um… don't know."

Rose just smiled slightly. "I'll leave you to it…" Getting only a hum in reply.

Going back to her room, she found she'd left her music playing, a new song playing just as she shut the door behind her; Nickleback's "If Today Was Your Last Day."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she pondered the lyrics to the song, yet again wondering if she had done the right thing by working with Sherlock.

What if today really was her last day? What would she rather be doing, right this minute, instead of being sat in her cold room, alone, eating a cold pasty?

She didn't know.

She did know that even if it were her last day, she could say that she'd done what she wanted to do and it made her happy. She may not have all that many friends, or go out partying or drinking, but she was happy; her little flat, unusual job and brilliant flatmates made her happy.

A new thought came to mind then; what if it wasn't her's,_ what if it was Sherlock's?_

Initially shrugging the thought off, she found that it in fact made her frown. Sherlock did just as much as she did, if not more dangerous, unpredictable things that could easily get him into a lot of trouble…or even killed.

_That's ridiculous, it's Sherlock! _She thought, _he knows what he's doing, always pulls through._

But as much as she denied it, the thought was still there; _unpredictable… what if he hurt himself without even meaning to?_

Shaking her head to clear it once again of a Holmes - but for a completely different reason this time - she pulled a book off her bedside table and decided a nice fiction would take her mind off of things.

Once she had finished a chapter, having eaten her pasty, she got changed into her bed clothes, getting in the warm bedding, picking up her book again.

After a long time, she caught herself struggling to stay awake and shut her book, getting out of bed to quickly turn the light off, missing the warmth of the sheets. It wasn't a full minute before she was fast asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Even the Silence Dreams**

It was a grey day in London and Rose Spencer was just going home from her days work.

Unlocking the front door and shutting it behind her, she went upstairs to the little flat she shared with her friends. _Used to share with friends_, she corrected.

Going into the living room, she stopped a few feet in, simply looking around, knowing the entire place was different but not quite realising why just yet.

John was sat in his usual chair, cup of tea in one hand, book half read in the other, as always. He smiled up to her, then frowned. "What's on your face…?"

Frowning slightly, she raised a hand, feeling the droplets smudge against her cheek as she touched them. Pulling back, she saw the most curious red on her finger tips.

John spoke up again, placing what was in his hands down and coming to stand in front of her. "Where's Sherlock?"

She just looked up to meet the doctor's worried gaze. "Sherlock's not coming home."

John just seemed to get more panicked. "Where is he?" He grabbed her shoulders, shaking her slightly when she didn't answer immediately. "Where is he?!"

"He's gone…" She whispered, the words truly sinking in. "He's gone…he's gone…"

John just stopped then; stopped everything. He let her go, dropped his arms and went back to his chair, slumping back. Rose just watched him, worried about what he might do.

He didn't do anything though.

He just sat there, staring at his book. After what seemed forever, a tear slid down his cheek, followed by another. He didn't weep, or make any sound at all, but the tears still flowed, falling in a silent protest of what he'd just been told.

She went to sit on the sofa in her usual place, pulling out her usual cigarette and lighting the end with the same Zippo as always; yet the action seemed wrong, foreign. In front of her John got up and went to the kitchen while she just stared into space.

She heard a cup break loudly, John's quiet sobs drifting through to her.

Her own tears started then, just falling in a matching silence as she stared into space, somehow still knowing everything that went on around her.

Like the next morning when John didn't get up, leaving her own her own.

Eventually when he did come down, she could see the stubble on his skin, his lack of bother for putting any sort of effort into his appearance. He had bags under blood shot eyes showing he'd had no sleep for however long he'd been up there.

And still her cigarette burned, the white paper gradually being eaten up, bit by bit.

Time still passed, John still did nothing. He didn't smile, he didn't even read his books or go on his laptop. He just sat there, drinking cold tea every now and then.

He had no life in him; _just like Sherlock Holmes…_

Bolting upright, she was breathing heavily, shaking like she never had before, eyes searching the darkness of her room, but only seeing the flashes of her dream play in her mind; bloody fingertips, a broken John.

An empty flat.

_It felt so real…_ she thought as she felt her lip start to tremble, eyes welling up and overflowing as she thought of how her life would be if Sherlock….died.

Hard as she tried, she couldn't get past how broken John was and unknowingly started to think about what would happen if their friend really did die on one of their cases.

There'd probably be no more cases; Lestrade only wanted Sherlock, she'd be of no use.

There're be no more experiments in the kitchen.

No more violin to send her to sleep at night.

A sad voice in the back of her head noted that there was no violin playing now and just as she fully noticed it, she started sobbing. Soon she was hysterical, shaking and sobbing, beyond disturbed at how real the nightmare had felt.

And how real it could become.


	3. Chapter 3

**Waking up in the Silence**

John blinked away his need for sleep, having sat up on the laptop looking through possible jobs, then updating his blog for far too long into the night.

_Not like I've got to get up early for work_, he thought sullenly.

Shutting his laptop down, not even bothering to change the password again - the mad man would only hack it again anyway - the tired doctor took his empty mug to the kitchen and put it in the sink, mind set on a bit of sleep.

However, as he went out onto the landing to go to his room, he heard the woman downstairs crying, the sound making him frown deeply; he knew Rose wasn't one to cry much, let alone sob.

Deciding sleep could wait, he went downstairs and knocked on her door. "Rose?" He asked, concerned for his friend. "You okay in there?"

Getting no reply, other than the continued sobbing, John figured he had to try a bit more. So, opening the woman's door slowly, he found her huddled against the head rest of her bed, quilt discarded on the floor.

His heart tugged painfully as he saw his flatmate and friend, huddled in pyjama bottoms and a baggy jumper, curled in on herself, shaking and sobbing, hysterical over something that John couldn't even begin to guess.

Moving over to her quickly, John sat next to her, pulling her towards him, wrapping his arms around her, feeling her jerk at being touched before relaxing, realising it was only him.

They sat like that for a while, Rose sobbing as John just held her, stroking her hair, running his fingers through the dark locks gently, trying to calm her down, whispering the occasional "It's okay…shh…" to the emotional woman.

Eventually she calmed down, taking a few deep breaths and coming back to her senses. Realising fully that John was actually there, holding her like a child the woman blushed furiously. Sniffing, she wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

Seeing she had settled down a bit, he brushed he hair away from her face, giving her a soft, sad smile. "Hey, what's wrong?" She just shook her head, not meeting his eye, embarrassed that John had found her in such a state. The doctor just sighed though, used to difficult people but wanting to help his friend. "Come on, tell me."

She just shook her head in defiance again though, clearing her throat. "Doesn't matter."

He tried to catch her eye but she just looked down at her hands, refusing to meet his gaze. "Rose…"

"I don't want to talk about it." She snapped, regretting it instantly, though John didn't take any offence by it. _Here he is, helping you, and you snap at him_, she scolded herself mentally. She softened her tone, whispering her apologies. "I'm sorry John, I didn't mean to snap."

"It's okay." He told her. "I'm here when you want to talk, okay?"

She just nodded, knowing she wouldn't; Rose Spencer was never one to openly share her darker thoughts. "You should get some rest John, it must be late."

John just frowned at her sudden change of subject, not wanting to leave her so upset. "I can stay, I don't mind."

She just looked up and met his eyes, John seeing the redness and hurt in them, the raw, honest emotion she rarely let anyone witness; sadness, grief…fear. He just frowned further, trying to think what could have happened to cause this._ A nightmare maybe? But what could it be to cause this?_

"Go sleep, John." She whispered.

He saw her eyes starting to droop and nodded, hoping that she would get some sleep as well. Giving her shoulder one more squeeze before getting up and picking up her lost quilt, settling it over her. "Let me know if you need anything, okay?"

She just nodded. "Thanks, John."

As John left, she was glad he wouldn't push her into talking about her dream; he really was a brilliant friend to have.

The dream…Nightmare.

It still circled her mind; knowing it wasn't real helped, but it still hurt to think about. Lying back, she let her mind toy with the question; what would life be like if Sherlock died?

Terrible, and she didn't want to live that. She didn't want to see how broken John would become, how silent the flat would be, or how ordinary life would become.

She owed her life to Sherlock, both literally and figuratively, knowing that her own happiness was down to him and everything he had done for her.

She couldn't let anything happen to him.

So, lying in bed, she started to think about the situation logically; there wasn't a lot she could do…..

With that thought however, she just become more determined.

If there was one thing the man himself had taught her was that there was always a way to get something done and she took inspiration from that; she wouldn't give up.


	4. Chapter 4

**Days of Silence**

John came downstairs the next morning to find Rose already up and dressed, sat on the sofa with her laptop in front of her, typing away and completely in a world of her own, occasionally puffing from a cigarette.

"Morning." He greeted her, waiting to see her reaction.

"Hey John." She greeted as usual, carrying on with her typing; a plan of action that she'd decided she needed to start with. However, remembering how he was there for her last night, she thought she should say something. "Listen, about last night-"

He cut her off though, dismissing what he knew was going to be an apology. "Don't worry about it."

"Just…thanks..." She amended, knowing he wouldn't take much else.

John was happy that she was relatively okay but as the morning passed into late evening, Sherlock spending the day in the kitchen with his experiments, John sat in his usual chair, the doctor noted that while at a first look, Rose may have seemed like she was just hard at work, but looking closer John found there was more than that.

She barely moved all day, apart form getting a cup of tea but when she did, she didn't look up; usually she'd look over to John, give him a smile or roll her eyes about work or Sherlock.

Not today though.

Thinking maybe he should try to get a little conversation going, John asked. "Did you sort out Christmas with Joe afterwards?"

Not pausing in her train of thought or typing, Rose answered quietly, "Not yet."

John just frowned slightly, picking up his newspaper. A few minutes passed however and he had read the same chapter at least a dozen times, mind not able to focus properly.

Suddenly he dropped the paper on top his lap and asked Rose, "Are you alright?"

She just frowned slightly at the question, picking her face up but not meeting his eye. "Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

John was about to answer but then thought better of it, remembering what she said the night previously; _I don__'__t want to talk about it._

Less than an hour later he heard her hum to herself in contemplation before shutting the laptop and putting it on the side before making her way to the kitchen.

Watching carefully, John saw her pass Sherlock, giving him a gentle pat on the shoulder as she went past the working man - who froze for a second, eyebrows pinching in a frown slightly as she touched him - moving towards the kettle to make a cup of tea. All the while though, it seemed she couldn't bring herself to look at her working friend.

After preparing her mug she still had to wait for the hot water and so leant against the counter frowning into space, arms folded, contemplating the working man in front of her, still without looking at him.

John just frowned at her behaviour. _She's definitely not okay_, he thought with worry.

The only way she could see that he could possibly get himself into that much trouble and not get himself out - or simply get help - would be for him to do it deliberately. The thought made her frown deepen, _how do you protect someone from themselves?_

Hearing the kettle click off, she poured her drink, taking one more trip to the living room to fetch her laptop before going down to her room, calling a "See you both in the morning" as she went.

John frowned deeper but realised he couldn't do much for the woman if she wouldn't tell him what was going on in her head. Wondering what he could do, he thought it might be a bit too soon to tell what would be best; he'd give it another day or so and if she wasn't any better, he'd see then.

Down in her bedroom, Rose lay on her bed with her laptop in front of her, paper just off to the side, hand poised above it, holding a pen ready to write.

She'd been thinking about it all day, finding it a challenging puzzle and had decided that the only way she could move past it was to finish her train of thought.

She'd come to the conclusion that it would be easiest to treat it like she would another case; find all the information she could and then make a plan of action, trying to stay a few steps ahead by thinking where she would go from each step.

Sherlock, she thought, would be able to get himself out of pretty much any situation he was put in; she'd seen it before. And since they worked together so much, anything dangerous he did, she'd probably be there to help him out either way.

Working from this the only result she got was that if he couldn't get out of the situation, it would probably be impossible for her to do so, even if she did know.

Frowning at this answer, she put her music on quietly, hearing One Republic's "Secrets" play out softly, putting her laptop and unused paper away again.

Sat up in her bed, drinking her cup of tea, she thought about the riddle she had been faced with; how do you protect a person without them knowing, especially one as smart as Sherlock Holmes, when the biggest danger to them, is themselves…?

The question was still on her mind when she reluctantly fell asleep, not wanting to have another bad dream.

John came down the next day to find the same as he did the day before; Rose sat on the sofa, tea on the side, laptop in front of her, though today she seemed to be thinking more than typing, occasionally mouthing something to herself before typing away again.

This cycle of thought and typing went on through the day, John once again trying to get some form of conversation out of the usually chatty woman, failing miserably every time.

Once again, she went to her room early, having barely spoken to either of her flatmates all day.

John was worried now; if it were Sherlock, he wouldn't be. He knew the consulting detective could go for more than a week with no conversation, barely eating and practically living in his own head. Rose was different though; she talked, thinking aloud, wanting opinions on any ideas or thoughts she had.

The Rose Spencer that John knew didn't do this.

That was why, half an hour after the young woman went to her room again, John went to stand in the kitchen, seeing Sherlock at the table as usual, eyes intent on the swirling red contents of a vial that John really would rather not think about.

Sherlock was used to this; if he was working, John would come in and wait for him to be mostly done before interrupting him. Sherlock did appreciate it, even if he never said and knew John wouldn't interrupt him unless the doctor thought it was important; whether Sherlock agreed or not was another matter.

Putting down his experiment, seeing John was rather worried about something he turned to the doctor, raising an eyebrow at him. "What's on your mind, John?"

John just sighed, the tired tension obvious to the taller man. "There's something wrong with Rose and I don't know what."

Sherlock frowned slightly, not really noticing any change in his assistant. "What do you mean?"

"Well..." John started, pulling out a chair. "I think she had a bad dream the other night and since then, she'd not been herself."

"She'll get over it." Sherlock dismissed, going to turn back to his work, but John was insistent.

"No, Sherlock." He argued, the tense tone getting Sherlock's attention; _he's really worried about her. _"I don't think she will. You two have a thing going on that I don't get, but can you at least try to see if she's alright? For me?"

Sherlock looked at the man he called a friend and sighed. "Okay, I'll take a look, but she's probably just tired or something." Turning back to his work he muttered, "Woman's a puzzle to understand anyway…"

John just smiled slightly, knowing Sherlock did care, just didn't quite know it properly yet, let alone know what to do about his care. "Thanks Sherlock."

As Sherlock worked, he planned in the back of his mind; _conversation, maybe a case should confirm she's alright_, he thought, while John was just relieved that Sherlock would try to do something about the young woman they lived with.

John came down the morning after talking with Sherlock, expecting to see, as usual now, Rose sitting in her usual place and Sherlock in the kitchen. However as he turned the corner to look in the living room, he was a little surprised to find Sherlock sprawled on the sofa. Shaking his head, John went to put the kettle on, wondering if it was a coincidence or if the strange man was doing it on purpose.

As the good doctor had suspected, Sherlock had indeed come down that morning and took up the whole sofa, wondering the reaction of his female flatmate since John had said its where she has sat for two days straight now.

However when the woman in question came down, laptop tucked under her arm, she frowned slightly at finding Sherlock on the sofa.

"Hi, Sherlock." She greeted, just watching him on the sofa., only bringing herself to make eye contact for the briefest moment, feeling a little guilty about her thoughts the past couple of days.

"Morning, Rose." He replied, raising an eyebrow at her.

Instantly suspicious of his behaviour, Rose went to put her laptop at the desk, finding John in the kitchen with a cup of tea ready for her. "Thanks, John." She said absentmindedly, taking the drink to sit in the living room.

Opening her laptop she frowned slightly, looking between the two men once more; Sherlock looked like he was up to something, blinking over to her every few seconds while John was trying to be inconspicuous, sat in his chair reading the paper, though not being as subtle as the consulting detective in his watching of the young woman.

_They're up to something… _

Heaving a great sigh she figured she'd find out sooner or later and there'd be no point in pushing them. _Hope it's nothing too insane this time, _she thought, knowing Sherlock well enough that he could easily drag John into something interesting enough.

Taking a sip from her mug, she went back to the plans she'd been working on, pushing the strange behaviours of the men out of her mind. So far she had come to the conclusion that she needed to know what Sherlock was up to, but didn't quite know how without having cameras all over the place.

Sherlock saw the proverbial light bulb go off in his friend's eyes as she stared into space. Suddenly a frown came across her face and she looked up to meet his curious gaze, an unknown emotion in her eyes; almost like regret.

Suddenly she broke off the contact - the longest they'd had in a few days - shutting her laptop down and picking up her mug, heading for her room, having forgotten to bring her phone with her.

As she got downstairs, she lay on her front on her bed, putting together a text.

_Need to see you about _

_something; not a social_

_call. Need some help, _

_don't know how long it _

_may take though._

Clicking send, she sent the message, hoping she was doing the right thing but not knowing what else there was to do; she needed the help and she could hardly go to either of her flatmates.

Coming into the living room with his toast, John frowned. "She's gone again already?"

"It would appear so." Sherlock replied, sitting up leaning on his knees. "Definitely up to something."

John was glad to know it wasn't just him who thought so, but still wondered what she could be up to that she wouldn't tell them.

After a while, Sherlock let out a long hum, having come up with a plan but needing to get dressed first.

After he came back downstairs, he found Rose in the kitchen making some peanut butter and jam on toast for her breakfast. Thinking he could allow her some time he said. "Eat quickly, I want to go have a look at something across town, want a second opinion."

Rose just turned around, chewing quickly so she could reply. "Sorry Sherlock, you're going to have to take John. Lestrade's been nagging me to have a look at a couple of cold cases."

Sherlock frowned slightly; she never refused a case. "Okay, if you really want to do something boring." He taunted, seeing if she'd rise to it.

She just chuckled, going to sit down. "Sometimes boring makes a nice change."

Sherlock just watched the woman, knowing for sure now that she was up to something; Lestrade had been sending her cold cases, that was true, but Sherlock knew she wouldn't take any of them. _Why would she lie?_

Sherlock took John with him as he went out on his made up goose chase, the doctor confused before Sherlock just got in the back of a cab, driving round for a bit while he explained to John all he'd seen.

"What was the dream about?" Sherlock asked, trying to come up with some form of trigger to Rose's bizarre behaviour.

John blanked. "I don't know, she wouldn't tell me."

Sherlock frowned. "It's got to be something personal rather than work, you know how private she can be."

John just nodded, smiling slightly; Sherlock was still annoyed at his lack of entry to the personal laptop apparently. The smile soon slipped into one of worry though. "I don't know Sherlock, she seemed…scared."

Sherlock just took a deep breath, letting it out as a heaving sigh. "We can't help her if she wont tell us what's wrong."

"I know.." An idea came to John then, wondering if Rose would get more upset if they interfered like this. Much,. "But maybe her brothers could get through to her?"

"Zach couldn't…" Sherlock dismissed, thinking it through. "But maybe Joe could." Sherlock reasoned, pulling out his phone.

"What are you doing?" John asked, wondering if it was a good idea to involve Sherlock, who'd do anything for an answer.

"Calling him, of course." Sherlock answered.

"Right…" John replied, knowing it would be no use to argue with the man who was known for his ability to get results; John just hoped it didn't cost them their unhappy friend.

Back in the flat, Rose had just finished washing up the breakfast pots when her phone went rang out with a reply.

_I'll send someone to pick _

_you up at seven, can do _

_no sooner than that for a _

_lengthy appointment._

Still not sure if she was doing the right thing, she just replied,

_Until then, Mycroft._


	5. Chapter 5

**Silence Needs Help**

Going downstairs to have a shower and putting on her music, Rose decided that she'd consult Sherlock's big brother, and then, if she didn't like the final plan, she could always back out.

Dressing like she would for work - plain black shirt, black trousers and a pair of heels, as well as her usual jewellery - she tied her hair up and decided to do something other than her obsessive planning to clear her head for a bit; going back to it later that evening with a lot more focus; Sherlock and John wouldn't be back for a while anyway.

Going back to the kitchen, she decided to check how much food they had in; she might cook lunch or something for the other two, enjoying the rare days they actually sat and ate together. She knew it was a guilty conscience that came up with the idea, but she didn't mind so much.

Putting together a list, she grabbed her coat and MP3, putting in her headphones, content to stay in her own little bubble for a little while longer.

Therefore, when Sherlock and John got back to the flat, they were surprised to find it empty. The men just frowned, John looking to his friend. "She wasn't actually working a cold case was she…?"

"No." Sherlock replied. "She never gives in to Lestrade's nagging."

Which was true, Rose Spencer never took on a case by herself to date and her boss was certain she still hadn't; he just didn't know what she was doing instead.

It was about half past five when they saw her again, bag of shopping weighing down each arm. Putting them on the side, she took out her headphones, and turned off her loud music.

She'd spent the best part of the day just getting out and about, walking around for a bit before having a bite to eat in a local café then doing some slow shopping, all the while, still wondering about her planned evening; what if John found out? Would he tell Sherlock? What if _Sherlock _found out? She didn't even want to think about that…

Putting away the shopping, she kept a pot noodle out and put the kettle on. "Either of you want a cuppa?"

"Yeh, go on then." John replied while Sherlock just murmured his agreement.

Pouring the drinks and the pot for her quick dinner, she took them to their designated drinkers. "What do you two think about a Sunday Roast for lunch tomorrow?"

John perked up immediately, jumping at the chance for the woman to cook. It wasn't often that she cooked for them, but when she did, they always enjoyed it; even if Sherlock didn't say anything, he always had seconds. "Count me in."

"Unless a case comes in, I see no problem." Sherlock replied, trying not to sound too happy about the young woman's cooking; food was for fuel, not enjoyment.

"Well if a case comes in," She replied, "I probably won't be here to cook it"

Sherlock tried to get more out of her, hoping she'd slip up. "Lestrade not working out?"

"I don't know just yet, I need more to work with." She replied, hoping it would both stop him prying and cover her activities of the evening. "Hence an early dinner; I'm off out tonight."

"Oh, yeh?" John piped up, mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

She just shot him a look. "Down boy, it's just work." Which was true; it may be Mycroft, but she had no plans to play their game tonight, she just wanted to make sure Sherlock would be a bit safer.

John just chuckled, happy to see her a bit more herself again. Carrying on with his teasing, he continued. "Look, all I'm saying is you don't have to cry _work_ to go out on a date..."

Sherlock just watched, dumbfounded as John was actually getting further than he was in winding the woman up, her guard dropping a little more.

"Oh yeh(!)" She replied, voice thick with sarcasm as she went to get her pot of pasta. "Because I've got _so_ much time for a relationship right now(!)"

John seemed to take her serious though, only just holding back a grin at his friend's expense. "Never know, Rose. Find yourself a nice fella, settle down; might even have a normal life…"

Rose just gave him a long hard stare over the top of her food. It was a few seconds before John cracked up, head lolling back, a roaring laughter filling the flat.

Sherlock looked rather perplexed at the doctor, but one look at Rose and he too had started chuckling lowly with his friend, Rose joining in soon after; the thought of a "normal life" amused the three flatmates to no end.

Rose composed herself first, a smile on her face as she looked at the happy doctor and the amused detective; this was why she was doing it all, for moments like these. Where they could all laugh at each other and the world they lived in, safe in the knowledge they could count on each other to keep the others afloat in the harsh reality the lived and worked in.

Giving one last chuckle, she took her now empty pot to the bin before going back to her usual spot on the sofa, laptop in front of her once again, going over every detail in her plan, making sure that there were no possible loop holes in the idea or the execution.

Soon enough, seven o'clock rolled round, Rose's phone buzzing in her pocket. Taking it out, she got the predicted message.

_A car for you, my dear_

_MH_

"Right, I'm off, guys." She told them, tugging her coat on. "See you later."

"Have fun!" John teased as she went, getting an eye roll in return from the woman.

Shutting the door behind her, Rose didn't know what she expected to find in the back of the sleek black car, but was glad to find it empty. She didn't bother trying to ask the driver where she was going, expecting another bleak warehouse or dark corner of London as always.

So when the car slowed down, she was a little confused to find herself outside an expensive apartment block, a man in a smart suit opening her door for her. Frowning slightly, she looked up and down the still bustling street.

Seeing no harm in the action, she turned to the man who opened her door. "Excuse me?"

He turned to her immediately. "Yes, Miss?"

Falling into a well rehearsed roll of being of a higher social class than she actually was - the area she was in, she had to be if she wanted to stay under the radar - she asked him, speaking properly. "I'm terribly sorry, but I have such a dreadful memory. Could you tell me what street we're on?" She explained, playing the slightly ditzy, but upper class snob of a woman. Leaning in closer to the slightly confused man, she lowered her voice. "I just want to make sure the driver's got the right place…"

A look of understanding came over his face as though he dealt with this sort of thing every day, but before he could give her an answer, a voice behind her cut him off.

"Come now, my dear." Said Mycroft getting out of the drivers side, Rose just lifting an eyebrow in response to the man with a cheeky expression on his features. "When have I ever steered you wrong?"

He passed the keys over to the young man who looked confused but was trying to hide it, knowing it wasn't his place to question the man. Holding his arm out for her, the unpredictable man asked, "Shall we?"

Huffing slightly at him, she took his arm, letting him guide her inside the building. "Do you always have to make such a dramatic entrance?"

He just smirked slightly, still looking ahead. "I wouldn't want to disappoint."

Rose was too stressed to play along however and the older man picked up on it wondering what was wrong; she was never this quiet, always ready with a quick wit and a sassy remark.

Rose just watched the rooms they passed; the large front desk in the lobby, the small hallway off to the side leading to several elevators, noting the lack of "elevator music" in the moving metal box before the doors opened to a clear hallway, a single door in the magnolia colours hall, fine white curls decorating the otherwise bland passageway.

Dropping her arm, he opened the door, holding it open for her, watching as her eyes scanned everything from the windows to the furniture. Rose found it was very much like Irene Alders house, expect with darker woods, deeper colours standing out, making the contrast between the light and dark furnishings more shapely.

She heard the door click softly behind her, turning to see Mycroft take off his coat, hanging it on the coat rack near by, heading further into the apartment, completely at home in his surroundings. As Rose followed his lead, taking off her coat, slipping her phone was into her back pocket, hanging her coat next to his and following him over to a private bar, bottles of all sorts behind the pristine counter.

Leaning on the top, she watched him move behind the bar, looking at the bottles. "What's your poison?" He asked, taking out a couple of glasses from underneath.

"Rum and coke, if you've got it." She replied, for once wanting something a little stronger than a beer.

"Of course." He replied, pouring her drink and sliding it over to her, waiting for an opinion.

Taking a cautious gulp, she found it was stronger than she expected. Eyes popping slightly, she let out a sharp breath in response to the warmth that hit her stomach, spreading outwards, waking her up a bit, cheeks flushing slightly. Mycroft just chuckled at her, setting about fixing his own drink; a whisky on the rocks.

Taking another sip, she found it was actually quite nice, if a little strong. "You trying to get me drunk, Mr Holmes?"

Putting the bottle away, he raised an eyebrow at her. "I don't need to do that, my dear." He became more serious then. "But that's not why you're here, is it, Rose?"

At the sound of her name - a rarity for the man - she knew it was time to get down to business.

Picking up her glass, she looked at the deep colour. "I don't know if I'm going mad… or… I don't know." She started, taking another small gulp.

Picking up his own drink, Mycroft directed her to a cream coloured sofa nearby, sitting at one end. "Well you do live with Sherlock; it was bound to happen sooner or later."

She chuckled slightly. Following him yet again, she went to sit at the other end, knee tucked under her slightly, glass in hand. "Well it has got to do with your brother."

A few seconds passed before he spoke up again, encouraging her. "Tell me…"

Taking a breath, she started. "I had a dream… a nightmare." She explained, eyes fixed on the hands holding her glass, frowning at her next words. "Sherlock didn't come home."

"Ahh…" He sounded softly, waiting for her to continue.

She looked up to meet his eyes, willing him to understand her. "I don't want the day to come where I have to wake up to that."

"So…?" He asked, taking a sip of his own drink, knowing there was more to come.

"The only reason…" She struggled to explain, trying to get the words out. "The only way I can see for that to happen, Sherlock being Sherlock," She said fondly, smiling slightly. "..is for him to…" She sighed, frustrated at her lack of decent explanation, glad that it was the more patient of the two Holmes brothers she was talking to. She decided to start again. "Sherlock can get himself out of pretty much any situation, so the only way I can see something like that happening is if he knew, and couldn't do anything about it." She frowned, thinking about her ingenious friend. "He wouldn't ask for help, I know that…but if we knew without him having to tell us, if we could stay a step ahead, we might be able to help him."

Mycroft nodded slowly, having thought about this topic more than he would have liked to. "So what do you propose?"

"Well." She continued, more sure of her plan than what spurred it into existence. "You keep tabs on him; tails, cameras, general people following him, but he knows you. Knows how you think and what you will do in reaction to his own actions." She took another swig of her drink, feeling her sleep deprived nerves smooth over a bit in response to the cool drink. "But he doesn't seem to be able to predict what I'll do."

Mycroft seemed slightly surprised at this though. "Are you sure?"

"Yep." She confirmed, nodding, thinking of the times Sherlock had tried to get one over her, failing miserably. "I've surprised him a few times, even tricked him before without him even thinking about it, let alone realising." Her tone got slightly sadder then, reality coming through in her words. "He doesn't see me… He can't read me as well as he does other people."

Mycroft just hummed in thought, swirling his drink in a repetitive motion. "So, if you could, how would _you _follow what he was doing?"

"Keep doing what you're doing now, otherwise he'll suspect something." She informed him, getting a nod in return. "I'd put microphones rather than cameras in his usual haunts; the flat, Lestrade's office, the lab. I've done my research; cameras may get you a picture but the microphones are much smaller without the lens and the sound is a lot sharper with one function. You could put a camera in as well if you really wanted, but you'd have to put it at a lower angle rather than higher; he's tall enough that he's less likely to see it if its lower." She reasoned.

It had taken a lot of research and several online discussions with highly technical - but thankfully patient - people, but she had learnt a little more than the basics on surveillance tools such a cameras and microphones and how they worked. Looking online she saw that technology had come far in hiding them as everyday objects; lamps, books, pens, anything.

Considering how high up Mycroft was in the food chain, she assumed he had access to some of the best there was out there, both on the market freely and for private government work.

Mycroft nodded, seeing the new direction she was going in, starting to understand why Sherlock had trouble with the woman; she thought inside the box, but in the far corners where no one looks.

"There is one problem with this." She pointed out, wanting to make sure she covered all her bases with her plan. She knew it was a decent plan - an edited one of Mycroft's - but she couldn't go through with it by herself.

"What's that?" He asked.

"You'd have to get someone to install them, and make sure that they've done it properly." She informed him. "Your assistant may be very good at her job but this is Sherlock Holmes; he see's everything." She smiled fondly at the thought of her friend, absently wondering what he was doing right now, _driving John up the wall from watching crap TV probably._

"Well, there's a simple solution to that." The older Holmes told her, getting a pair of raised eyebrows in response. "You'd fit them."

"Me?!" She asked incredulously, laughing slightly. "You've got to be kidding."

"No, I'm not." He answered. "Why can't you fit them?"

"Technology hates me." She informed him, thinking back to when she first caught a camera in 221B. "Remember what happened to the first camera I found?"

Mycroft just repressed a smirk but she caught the twitch in the corner of his mouth. _He seems far more relaxed than usual; maybe it__'__s the drink_. She thought, before glancing at his glass, realising he had hardly touched his drink.

Head rising slightly, the man boasted. "I could teach you to use and fit one in less than five minutes."

She just gave him an incredulous look. "I doubt that."

He just raised an eyebrow, putting down his drink. "I'll prove it."

She frowned slightly, watching him get up and go over to a desk, pulling back a draw and taking something out. Coming back over to the sofa - Rose putting her drink on the table to join his - he sat next to her, opening his hand to reveal the tiny camera.

The lens was the size of the top of a pencil, slightly curved and shining like new. The case of the device couldn't be any longer than a couple of centre meters, lens at one end, and the other convex in shape.

Holding his hand out to her, he said softly. "Here, take a look."

"I'll break it." She warned just as quietly, slight smile in place.

"I can get another one…" He assured her.

Taking the devise carefully, she turned it around, examining every detail of the surface, finding that there was actually very few - black metal casing, lightweight, easily hidden. After a moment she asked, "How does it work?"

Holding her hand still, his fingers over lapping her own, he turned the camera to face her, pushing a finger on top of hers so that the curved end of the devise caved in slightly; a button being pushed. In response, a small green light shone in the back of the lens for a full second before going out.

"That's it?" She asked, impressed at how simply the device worked.

"That's it." He repeated, watching her rather than the devise.

Smiling to herself - she always enjoying finding something new - she turned to him, about to ask if it was still on, how it recorded, whether it had a microphone built in, what the video quality was like, all questions dying before they could pass her lips, the young woman just realising how close the man next to her truly was.

Once again, she became very aware of him; his hand on hers, his breath slightly tainted with the whisky he hadn't yet finished, his eyes watching every feature of her face.

On instinct her eyes snapped to the movement she caught, only just realising it was in fact his tongue poking out, moistening his lips. However, seeing it as an invitation, the man shot forward, pressing his mouth against hers in a feverish kiss like she hadn't had in so long.

Shocked, she felt herself sober up instantly, gasping in surprise at his actions. He wasn't deterred however as she felt the devise they had been discussing leave her hand, one of his own holding her in place, fingers winding into her hair as he continued kissing her, lips soft but firm on hers, demanding a response when they got none.

This only set of a spark of life in the young woman, body suddenly coming to life as she kissed back just as strong, one hand gripping his silk tie, pulling him closer as the other found its way into a handful of his shirt.

Without warning, she felt him intrude her mouth, lips forced apart by his own as he dominated her, tongues now warring for control before she eventually just gave in, loosing herself in the moment, all traces of worry and stress over her friend gone, the man in front of her taking up all space in her mind.

After what she deemed far too soon, his lips left hers, trailing a path along her jaw, the man working his way to the delicate skin of her neck, hands working their way across her body; one supporting her back, the other caressing her stomach, teasing, not going downwards, but also not going upwards.

Just as the hand on her stomach slipped under the cloth of her shirt, she gasped, the sound turning to a soft moan as he kissed just behind her ear, finding the tender spot just over her pulse point, knowing he could feel her racing pulse on his lips, her heavy breathing under his hands.

Not one to take all the enjoyment for herself, she pulled him upwards again, lips crashing as she gave him a taste of his own medicine, claiming his mouth for herself. Pushing back slightly, she pushed him up and off her, leaning over him instead, hands coming up to loosen his tie.

_Vrrr...Vrrr__…__._

The pair of them froze at the sound.

A hand slowly travelled from where it was on her back, a single finger trailing a solid path down her spine as the two of them just kept eye contact the entire time, breathing having, lips swollen from their activities.

Coming to the waist band of her trousers, she raised an eyebrow to him as he just smirked at her, taking her mobile out of her pocket, the small phone still vibrating from the phone call she was receiving.

Sighing, she pushed off him slightly, taking the phone from him, but finding his hand went right back to holding her in place, fingertips digging in slightly in a silent message - _you__'__re not going anywhere_.

Taking in a steadying breath, her own breathing still a little off, she answered the phone.

"Hello?" She asked, trying to clear her throat quietly.

"_Rose, what__'__s going on?__" _Itwas Joe, and he sounded both tired and a little confused.

Trying not to sound so guilty, she replied to her big brother who had interrupted their fun. "What do you mean?"

Joe just sighed. _"__I got a call off Sherlock saying he wanted to go for drinks. Dunno how he knew I was in town but__…__ anyway, I turn up and he__'__s here with John. They said you wouldn't be long. Where are you?__" _He asked.

Trying to get her mind into gear again, doing her best to ignore the wandering hands that were slowly creeping under her shirt, she just looked upwards. "Ummm…. Just finishing up a meeting."_ So this is what they were up to…sods!_

Mycroft really wasn't helping her situation here, hands slowly but surely exploring her skin, fingertips tracing random patterns on the skin of her back, every now and again tracing a rib and going back again; something so simple but it was driving her insane. Giving him a look she mouthed, _stop it_, getting only a smirk in reply, really trying to concentrate on what her brother was saying. "_Well are you going to be long?"_

"Umm, I don't know," She cut him off, trying to cut the conversation short. "I'll try and wrap it up." This just earned a raised eyebrow from the man in front of her. _Oh, for f….great choice of words there, Rose_, she scolded herself, trying to get her mind out of the gutter while going a new shade of red.

"_Alright.__" _Joe replied impatiently. _"__But hurry up, little sis, it's been ages since we've had a drink together.__"_

"I know, I know." Was the best she could answer with because it was then Mycroft, it seemed, had gotten bored with drawing patterns across her skin and had started kissing her neck again; up one side and down again, lips dancing across her collar bones and up the other side, repeating the process torturously slowly, deliberate with every movement; she didn't have the will to push him away.

Joe was getting more annoyed it seemed. "_Oh, Sherlock wants to talk to you, shall I pass you over?_" _Oh, hell no!_ She thought.

"No!" She snapped at her brother. At that moment however the man trying to get her attention had gotten that little bit more demanding, pinching that spot with firm lips, the young woman only just suppressing the loud moan that threatened to escape; not enough however, the end of the word getting a little rougher, the woman praying her brother hadn't noticed.

No such luck though as she could practically hear him frown. _"__Rose? You okay?__"_

"Yeh, I'm fine." She replied, pushing Mycroft back roughly, giving him a hard stare.

He wasn't having that though, pulling her forward just as roughly, lips claiming the left side of her collar bone, teeth scraping the sensitive skin there, the sensation shooting through her life a wild fire.

"_You sure?" _Joe wasn't buying it.

Deciding that it would be best to get the phone call over and done with, she just said. "Yeh, umm, right, text me where you are and I'll be there as soon as I can, alright?"

Joe seemed happy with that though. _"__Okay, see you soon, Sis.__" _He ended cheerily, hanging up before she could reply.

Hanging up, she looked at the man who had been such an enjoyable distraction. "I have to go; it seems brothers are far more troublesome than we first thought."

Mycroft just chuckled, releasing his hold on her, letting the woman move away. "There's always next time." He hinted as she went to get her coat, straightening his tie slightly.

"Promises, promises…" She replied, throwing him a smirk before putting on the heavy material. She left the front undone, straightening her shirt again, knowing it would be no use; the all seeing mad man would know straight away. Turning on the spot she saw him standing close by the door and suddenly decided to get her own little bit of revenge.

Stalking up to him, she grabbed his tie once more, pulling him into a crushing kiss as she pushed him against the back of the door, forcing her way past his lips, using her own tongue to stroke his. As she hoped, he slipped his own past her lips in return, his hands automatically resting on her hips.

Faster than he realised, she bite his tongue gently, keeping it for herself. Keeping eye contact, she slowly sucked his tongue, watching in satisfaction as his eyes widened slightly, feeling both his breathing speed up and his heart skip a beat before racing under her hands. His own hands just pulled her closer, hips meeting as she felt the repercussions of her teasing press against her stomach.

Pulling back, she smirked. "Until next time then, Mr Holmes." She said huskily, slipping out of hands easily, opening the door as he moved to follow her, shutting it before he could catch her though.

_Serves him right_, she thought, frustrated with him and his ways. _Sod._

When she got to the street, she decided to walk a bit before getting a cab to the bar Joe was at, lighting up a cigarette as she walked down the dark street, the cool night air a balm to her flushed skin and swollen lips.


	6. Chapter 6

**Helping the Silence**

Mycroft had been working as usual - and actually contemplating a cup of tea - when his phone went off, a small, singular ring sounding out in the large office.

Frowning, he took out the devise, wondering who could be texting him - everyone who would get in contact with him would go through his assistant, or call him. However one quick glance at the small screen and he immediately wondered why he hadn't realised sooner.

_Need to see you about _

_something; not a social_

_call. Need some help, _

_don__'__t know how long it_

_may take though._

Allowing the smug smirk to tug at his lips, the mind of the man running back to their last meeting, he looked at the clock on his wall. _8:37..._

Sighing, he typed a reply, knowing that if she wanted anything other than a fleeting visit, it would have to be at the end of his day.

_I__'__ll send someone to pick _

_you up at seven, can do _

_no sooner than that for a _

_lengthy appointment._

Going back to his work, it was a few minutes later that his phone went off again, a reply from the young woman.

_Until then, Mycroft._

He frowned at the screen slightly; she barely ever called him by his first name, always preferring Mr Holmes - which still bugged him more than it should.

Closing down the message he continued on with his day, trying - and mostly succeeding - to put the woman out of his mind until later that day. Still, he knew it would be something more serious than their usual _talks_, the use of his name gave that away.

He put the pile of papers to one side, all sorted neatly into different categories. He would have to do a little catch up tomorrow, but the hard working man thought he deserved at least one early evening once in a while.

Taking his leave from the office, he dismissed his usual driver, giving him the night off as well, taking the keys and getting into the driver's seat himself.

It was another rare occurrence; for Mycroft to drive himself. However it was a small luxury he did enjoy from time to time and it was something new that Miss Spencer would not be expecting. Even if it was a serious meeting, he liked to play a little bit.

Pulling up to 221B he sent her the text, hearing her get in the back of the car less than a minute later. Keeping his driving reasonable, it was still only a short while until he pulled up to the building that housed his apartment, thinking it would be more comfortable than his usual dingy warehouses and abandoned buildings he usually used.

He waited a few seconds, letting her exit the car and get her barings before he opened his own door, just in time to hear her quiet words to the working man.

"…want to make sure the driver's got the right place…"

He internally laughed at the thought - and the posh façade she had going on - deciding to make his presence more known. "Come now, my dear." He said. Rose just lifting an eyebrow in response. He smirked slightly at her shocked expression, even if she did hide it quickly. "When have I ever steered you wrong?"

Mycroft gave the other man the keys to the car so he could put it away, holding out his arm for the younger woman to take. "Shall we?"

"Do you always have to make such a dramatic entrance?" She huffed, taking his arm.

His smirk just grew slightly. "I wouldn't want to disappoint."

Guiding her through the building, he looked her over, taking in every detail. She was dressed as though she were working a case, though he knew she wasn't. There were dark marks under her eyes from lack of sleep and though she took in their surroundings, he saw she didn't take much notice in them like he thought she would of usually. There was no curious spark in her dark blue eyes as she looked around, just worry and stress, though she hid it quite well.

He wouldn't have thought about it as much if she hadn't have missed the opportunity for a witting remark in response to his own. She always wanted to have the last word, Mycroft knew that much.

So it was a slight worry when she didn't utter a sound in the elevator, nor when he showed her inside. Sighing internally, he just shut the door quietly, putting his coat in it's place on the rack and went to make a drink.

"What's your poison?" He asked, hoping to at least get something to work with from her choice.

Leaning on the counter, she replied, "Rum and coke, if you have it."

"Of course." He replied, hiding his slight surprise at her choice, expecting something weaker. Mixing her drink, he slid it over to her waiting for her opinion.

He was pleased with what he got; her eyes widening, cheeks flushing slightly as the drink hit her system. Chuckling at her, he reached for the whisky, setting about making his own drink.

"You trying to get me drunk, Mr Holmes?" She asked, a little more relaxed with a drink in front of her.

Mycroft just raised an eyebrow at her, response at the ready, as always. "I don't need to do that, my dear." He let the game drop though. "But that's not why you're here, is it, Rose?"

The weight seemed to come back to her as she picked up her glass, looking at the drink rather than him. "I don't know if I'm going mad…or…I don't know." She finished, taking another sip.

_After all that's happened, she's asking this now?_ He thought, the woman confusing him already. Picking up his drink, he moved over to the sofa. "Well, you do live with Sherlock, it was bound to happen sooner or later."

This seemed to cheer her up a little and Mycroft found he was glad to see the small smile that tugged at her lips. He pushed the thought away as soon as it had occurred though, not liking its place in his own head. He decided to focus on her words instead. "Well it has got to do with your brother."

He gave her a few minutes - taking a sip of his drink - before deciding she may need a little nudge to continue. "Tell me…"

"I had a dream… a nightmare." She started, still looking at her drink rather than him, frowning before elaborating slightly. "Sherlock didn't come home."

Instantly, Mycroft knew why she had come to him. "Ahh…" He'd thought of the subject far more than he would have liked, but it was necessary, considering who his brother had come to be and the profession he had chosen to work in.

"I don't want the day to come where I have to wake up to that." She told him, eyes meeting in understanding of the situation.

Taking another sip, he knew there was more to why she was infornt of him. "So…?"

"The only reason…" She started, though seemed to be having trouble finding the right words. "The only way I can see for that to happen, Sherlock being Sherlock, is for him to…" She stopped again, the sentence getting away from her, deciding to start again. "Sherlock can get himself out of pretty much any situation, so the only way I can see something like that happening is if he knew, and couldn't do anything about it. He wouldn't ask for help, I know that…but if we knew without him having to tell us, if we could stay a step ahead, we might be able to help him."

Mycroft nodded slowly. "So what do you propose?" He wanted to know what she would do differently; he was already doing almost all he could think of to keep his brother in line and safe.

"Well." She continued, "You keep tabs on him; tails, cameras, general people following him, but he knows you. Knows how you think and what you will do in reaction to his own actions." She took another swig of her drink before making a final point. "But he doesn't seem to be able to predict what I'll do."

_Surely not, _the man thought. _The woman's certainly a little puzzle but Sherlock lived with her! _"Are you sure?"

"Yep." She confirmed, smiling slightly. "I've surprised him a few times, even tricked him before without him even thinking about it, let alone realising." Her tone got slightly sadder then and Mycroft wondered if it upset her that his brother was so oblivious. "He doesn't see me… He can't read me as well as he does other people."

"Hmm…" If he truly doesn't see her like he does everyone else, she may be the key to the entire plan. "So, if you could, how would _you _follow what he was doing?"

"Keep doing what you're doing now, otherwise he'll suspect something." He nodded in agreement, encouraged by her train of thought. "I'd put microphones rather than cameras in his usual haunts; the flat, Lestrade's office, the lab. I've done my research; camera's may get you a picture but the microphones are much smaller without the lens and the sound is a lot sharper with one function. You could put a camera in as well if you really wanted, but you'd have to put it at a lower angle rather than higher; he's tall enough that he's less likely to see it if its lower." She reasoned.

Mycroft nodded again in response, not having considered an eye on the lab, most of Sherlock's interesting "experiments" going on in the flat. He'd already bugged Lestrade's phone, but maybe the office itself would be a better idea.

Before he could get a solid plan in his mind though, she spoke up again.

"There is one problem with this." She told him.

Frowning slightly, his brain kicked into a new gear, working to find the problem. "What's that?"

"You'd have to get someone to install them, and make sure that they've done it properly. Your assistant may be very good at her job but this is Sherlock Holmes; he see's everything." She told him, smiling when she mentioned his little brother.

Mycroft had noticed that she seemed to like Sherlock very much, possibly even feel a fondness for the bizarre man he called a brother. He was a little surprised; Sherlock was never one for making friends, let alone successfully and definitely not ones this loyal or protective. Rose Spencer genuinely seemed to care.

"Well, there's a simple solution to that." He told her in response, her eyebrows raising in question. "You'd fit them."

"Me?!" She asked, sounding as though it was the most ridiculous idea in the world. "You've got to be kidding."

"No, I'm not." He told her, only making her more confused. "Why can't you fit them?" He asked, thinking it would be something along the lines of too much guilt. Once again though, he was pleasantly wrong.

"Technology hates me." She said with all seriousness, causing Mycroft to work a little harder at not laugh at the silly woman. "Remember what happened to the first camera I found?"

The smirk he was controlling, got a little stronger, lips only twitching slightly in humour. It was one of the traits both he and Sherlock shared though; neither could resist a chance to show off. "I could teach you to use and fit one in less than five minutes."

"I doubt that." She scoffed, not believing him.

"I'll prove it." He told her, putting down his drink and going to get one of the latest models in technology they had available to them from his desk draw; he'd been looking over the design only the other day, trying to see if it were possible to get the devise smaller, less noticeable.

Going to sit next to her - much closer than he had been - Mycroft opened his hand to show her the small camera. Instantly she scanned it and though there wasn't much to see, she seemed to be fascinated by the small devise.

"Here," He offered. "Take a look."

"I'll break it." She told him softly, voice barely a whisper.

"I can get another one…" He told her, part bragging, part assurance for the clumsy woman.

Taking the small piece of technology from him, she looked over it several times, trying to work it out. He just watched her, enjoying the curiosity in her eyes, almost hearing the cogs turning in her mind as she analysed everything she could.

She was completely engrossed with the small object at her finger tips, while he was enthralled by the woman so close he could reach out and touch her if he wanted, without barely moving at all.

"How does it work?" She asked, bringing him back to reality.

Gently placing his hand over hers, he pushed the button on the end of the devise, her hand trapped between his and the cold metal of the camera. The small green light shone for a second before going out again so as to not draw attention to itself.

"That's it?" She smiled, looking impressed.

He smiled slightly. "That's it."

She smiled a little bigger before suddenly turning to him. His breath caught slightly at how close she really was. Instinct took over slightly, tongue licking his dry lips. He saw her catch the movement, saw her eyes linger for a little longer than they really needed and decided he'd had enough of this.

_Oh, hell_, was the final thought Mycroft had before giving in to what he wanted; and he always got what he wanted.

Kissing her with a flame he hadn't felt in a long while, he felt her freeze under the sudden movement.

He wasn't having any of that though.

He took advantage of her apparent surprise, taking the camera off her and out the way, while his other hand worked its way to hold her close, fingers winding through her thick dark locks, becoming a little more demanding the longer he went without a response.

As though she had come to life, he felt her move suddenly, hands roaming his front, one tugging his shirt, the other at his tie, pulling him closer.

He let the briefest smirk pull at his busy lips before invading her mouth, wanting more from her. She just fought as hard for the dominance between them, and Mycroft found he liked it. _Woman has some fight in her_, he thought vaguely.

Before long though, he decided that he wanted more of a reaction from the young woman; he wanted to see her writhe and squirm and know that he was the sole cause. Making his way down the soft skin of her neck, letting her catch her breath, he was pleased to feel her pulse throb quickly under his touch.

Teasing her stomach, he enjoyed the feel of her soft skin under his hands, feeling her simultaneously tense under his touch and relax into it; she wanted him to go further.

However, during his teasing, he decided to try something; he was hardly a novice when it came to women after all. Slipping his hand under the cloth of her shirt, he kissed the sensitive skin behind her ear, her pulse racing, heart beat thudding with life under his fingertips. He wasn't disappointed, the soft moan he got from his work sinking into him like his discarded whisky.

Suddenly, he felt himself pulled back, lips crashing again but this time, she took control, claiming his mouth with her own, lips moving hypnotically against him; she really was driving him mad.

Falling back, he saw her lean over him, hands working to loosen his tie further, eyes never leaving his; he could stare into the deep blues that had somehow captivated him, would easily give himself to them, willingly.

Before either could continue though, Mycroft heard a quiet vibration sound out through the room, stopping his actions as he tried to find the source. It didn't take him long to realise it was her phone ringing.

Raising an eyebrow slightly, he trailed a single finger down her spine towards her back pocket. Tempted to play a little more, he decided that there would always be time later and that she should probably answer the call. Slipping his hand into the pocket, dirty smirk in place on his features, Mycroft fished out the source of the interruption, holding it up for her to take.

However, as she took it from him, she pushed back slightly, making some space between them; Mycroft didn't like this. Holding firm, he pulled her back, sending a clear message to the young woman.

She took a breath, trying to clear her throat as she answered. "Hello?" _She didn't even check the caller ID_, he thought absently, hoping it was actually something important.

He tried to hear the other side of the line, only catching bits. "…_What's going on?"_ It wasn't Sherlock or John, but it was definitely a male.

Looking slightly awkward and a little guilty, he heard her try to hide it in her tone, mostly succeeding. "What do you mean?"

"…_got a call…drinks….I turn up and he's here with John….wouldn't be long. Where are you?"_

Mycroft only had so much patience though, hands starting to wander her skin again, tracing random designs on the pale flesh that - unfortunately - was still covered by her shirt. All the while he watched her, trying to distract her from her call; he knew exactly what he was doing.

"Ummm…" She started, looking up, missing his smirk. "Just finishing up a meeting." His smirk just grew at her choice of words. She looked at him then, eyes a blaze with so many emotions he could barely count; frustration, annoyance, guilt…lust. _Stop it, _she mouthed at him, trying to concentrate. He wasn't having any of it though, smirk just growing, deciding to push the line a little further.

"…_going to be long?"_

"Umm, I don't know. I'll try and wrap it up." She replied, but one look to him and he just raised an eyebrow at her words getting a very nice blush across her skin, realising what she'd said.

"_Alright…hurry up, little sis…" _The realisation came to Mycroft that it was one of her brothers; most likely Joe from what he'd seen of Zachary.

Having solved that little mystery, Mycroft found himself bored again with a very entertaining woman in front of him…

Moving to her neck once again, he started kissing up and down her neck, travelling across the top of her chest to the other side of her neck and back again, smiling a little when she didn't push him away, though her lack of reaction had set a personal challenge for him.

_"…shall I pass_ _you over?"_

Just as Mycroft found a sensitive spot on her collar bone, she seemed to get a little panicked, raising her voice as he pinched her collarbone. "No!" But as she did, he caught the rougher edge to it at his actions, the sound only encouraging him.

"_Rose? You okay?"_

"Yeh, I'm fine." She lied easily, pushing Mycroft back. Not liking to be pushed around though - and certainly not away - he pulled her forward, teeth catching the same area again, flesh grazing between them.

The reaction was instant. She jerked slightly, eyes closing for a fraction of a second, breath catching in her throat, heart pounding stronger than before while he lips parted slightly.

_"You sure?"_

"Yeh…" She glared at him as she drew the phone call to a long awaited close. "Ummm, right, text me where you are and I'll be there as soon as I can, alright?"

She breathed a sigh of relief at his reply. _"Okay, see you soon, Sis."_

Hanging up she turned to him, irritation hidden in her eyes, but he heard it in her tone. "I have to go; it seems brothers are far more troublesome than we first thought."

He just chuckled at her obvious disappointment at their fun being cut short; hiding his own as he did so. Straightening his tie, he told her, "There's always next time."

She threw a dirty smirk at him, eyes twinkling with mischief and lust. "Promises, promises…"

Letting the young woman take her time to get herself together, Mycroft went and stood patiently by the door to see her out. Rubbing the back of his neck - trying to forget the feel of her bare skin under his hands - he looked up to see her facing him, familiar determination in her blue eyes that he found instantly.

Coat billowing behind her slightly, she closed the distance between them quickly, pulling him down again by his recently straightened tie. Pushing him against the back of the door she didn't wait a second before plunging her tongue past his lips, roaming his mouth like it was hers to own.

He instantly caught her by the waist, he fought back, his own tongue pushing hers back, trying to establish some dominance over the bold woman. However, having lost himself in the moment slightly - only slightly mind you - he didn't expect a set of teeth to capture him, eye shooting open to meet hers, sparkling with fire and life.

Having already sacrificed his tongue, he was certainly not expecting her next move; not releasing her gentle hold, she slowly started sucking the stolen tongue, the man's brain instantly thinking of something not so different.

_Bloody hell… _were the only words he could string together in that moment.

His heart seemed to falter in its rhythm before picking up faster than it had all evening, the blood it was pumping going south instantly. Pulling at her waist, he bought her closer, letting her know exactly what she did to him.

Far sooner than he would have liked, she puleld back, setting him free again. "Until next time then, Mr Holmes." She said as usual, familiar smirk on her flushed features as she slipped out of his hands and out the door. She was gone before he could even process her words.

Letting out a long sigh, Mycroft simply leant against the door once again, alone this time, but no less frustrated. _That woman…_he thought, trying to form some form of sentence in his mind, frowning at the outcome_. That woman will be the death of me._

After composing himself a little better he spied his drink he'd previous abandoned on the coffee table.

Taking a slightly uncomfortable walk over to the expensive glass of whisky - ice melted by now - he downed it in one, frowning at the realisations he was coming to as the cloud of lust left his mind, the woman staying put though.

He was getting far too attached.

He was starting to…_care._


	7. Chapter 7

**Silent Solutions**

Getting out of the cab a street away from the bar, Rose heaved a heavy sigh at the situation she had somehow gotten in; things had gone a bit too far with Mycroft - not that she was actually complaining - and now Sherlock was acting up for god only knows what reason.

Talking a slow and steady walk, she decided to have another cigarette, lighting up and trying to get into a better frame of mind; right now she had to make sure the three men werent causing too much trouble, then she could think further about where she could put Mycroft's cameras and maybe after that, she might consider thinking about what she was going to do about Mycroft himself but she'd leave that for very last.

Turning the corner she saw the small pub come into view, a soft glow leaking onto the street, a soft rhythm of music playing from the happy building. Coming up to the door however she felt her mood sick slightly, irritation spiking at the song "Uptown Girl" that was playing, the catchy tune reminding her of earlier events.

Cursing whoever invented the concept of brothers, she pushed the door open to go inside, she saw it wasn't completely full, spotting the men she was looking for almost instantly.

Exaggerating the annoyed look that graced her featured a bit more, she walked over to the booth they occupied, standing at the end, hands on hips, looking like the mother who caught her sons' with their hands in the cookie jar.

"Rose!" Joe greeted, grin in place on his own face. "Come sit, what do you want to drink?"

Trying to pull her down, she only ended up helping him onto his feet instead. "Tea." She said flatly. "Come on, we're going home."

"No…" He just argued sadly. "One more, just one, I promise."

Looking at his sad face, big blue eyes pleading with her, she knew she wasn't going to win this one. Sighing she just started to undo her coat. "Fine, but you can get me one as well."

"Yes! The usual?" Joe cheered, clapping her on the shoulder as she nodded in defeat. Laughing, he turned to the doctor. "Come on, John, you can help me carry them."

John just rolled his eyes at the younger intoxicated man, going to join him, leaving Rose and Sherlock on their own.

A quick glance at her apparel told him everything he needed to know; and a few things he didn't need to know for that matter. Raising an eyebrow higher than he thought it could actually go, he asked, "Have fun?"

She held her head high, pointedly ignoring the blush that took her face. "I don't know what you're talking about." She denied, knowing it was pointless.

Sherlock just looked at her defensive posture for a second before cracking up, roaring with laughter, finding the whole thing rather amusing.

Rose just frowned before smiling at the happy man, still confused at his amusement. "What…?"

He just shook his head. "Next time you want to see my brother, just say. You don't have to invent a case…."

Seeing he'd come up with completely the wrong idea, she tried to defend her honour a bit. "No… no, really, I didn't mean for anything-"

Sherlock just waved her off, the past few days becoming clear as a summers day to him; Mycroft had visited, she'd shown him out, then started acting funny. _Obviously something happened, she spent the day in her room, but didn't know what to do about her feelings so kept to herself before deciding to see him tonight, _he thought, seeing the pieces fit neatly together. "It's okay Rose, we've talked about this, remember? What you do in your own time is your business." _Mostly…. _But thinking he could get a better blush out of her, he tacked on the end, "That goes for_ who _you do as well…"

Jaw dropping at his blunt remark, she just shoved him lightly as Joe and John came back over, a drink in each hand. Sherlock just gave her one last cheeky look before taking his drink from John.

Rose looked between them, Joe rather drunk and joking, though she couldn't figure out how get got like this so soon; Joe could handle his drink better than most. She figured it out though when she noticed Sherlock had the same drink. She suspected it was Sherlock's doing, but after the past few days, decided to let it go, not wanting to pick an argument with the mad man.

"How'd the case go earlier?" She asked, looking to John, knowing he'd be more likely to answer.

"Oh, you know…" John avoided, trying to think of a change of topic before seeing the perfect distraction. Scratching his collar bone with his thumb, he flicked his gaze to her own collar bone that she had on show, asking the guilty woman, "And yours?"

Catching the swift movement, Rose caught her reflection in the window they ere sat by, seeing the slightly red mark on her pale skin. _Bastard! _Blushing worse than she had all night, she quickly covered up, doing up another two buttons on her shirt while shooting back, "Oh, very productive." A hint of sarcasm was detectable under the tone.

Sherlock, who had just taken a mouthful of his drink suddenly spat it out again, drawing their attention to him as he choked on the liquid he hadn't quite swallowed down yet.

As the doctor patted him on the back, Rose simply raised a single eyebrow in challenge, daring him to say something. "You alright there, Sherlock?"

"Fine," he spluttered, trying to compose himself; he had expected an embarrassed blush from the young woman. _Got a bit more than that… wasn't expecting that_, he thought vaguely, mind trying to get over the shock of the implemented words of his flatmate.

"That's what I thought." Happy to take him down a peg, she downed the rest of her drink, noting that Joe was very much in his own world and hadn't noticed much of what went on between the three friends. "Time to go I think."

Grabbing her older brother, leaving no room for argument, she steered him outside, the two older men, just sharing an incredulous look before following after her, John smiling slightly, glad that she was indeed alright.


	8. Chapter 8

**_Silent Thoughts_**

Getting home, John and Sherlock went up the stairs to put the kettle on while Rose helped her older brother up the stairs after them, thankful that he was so skinny.

Dropping him onto the sofa, she soon found herself being pulled down with him, his arms hugging her close like a teddy bear as he curled up on the sofa. The woman just sighed, letting the tension drain from her, head resting on her brother's shoulder.

John poured a cup of tea for himself, placing Sherlock's mug on the table where the man was checking his experiments, before going to sit in the living room. The doctor looked upon the two siblings on the sofa and smiled at how close they were, knowing the woman wouldn't usually let anyone hug her, let alone curl up with someone.

"Have you thought anymore about my idea?" Joe asked his little sister, not caring about the other two in the flat.

Rose looked up to him slightly. "Yeh, but I've still got to make sure it's alright…" She replied, trying not to give too much away.

Joe saw this and just asked louder to the other two men. "What are you two up to for Christmas?"

"Not much, might go see Harry a day or two after." John replied, hoping his sister would be a little more sober when he went up there.

Sherlock just grumbled in the kitchen, Rose smiling slightly at his lack of enthusiasm about the holiday.

"Well…" Rose started, "Do either of you mind if my brothers came around for Christmas? There's more room here…"

"Fine by me." John smiled. "What about you, Sherlock?"

"Sounds good." The man in question replied, coming into the room to sit at the desk on Johns laptop, earning a light glare from the doctor. _Another chance to work her out….if not, just for a bit of entertainment… _he thought.

"See?" Joe gloated. "They're fine with it." Rose just poked her tongue out at his childish ways.

A few minutes later, she sighed though, John having gone to wash up his mug.

Joe looked down at her. "What?"

"We gotta call Zach." She told him.

"Now?" He asked; he had been planning on going to sleep.

She sat up though, face serious for once. "I'd rather get it over with…"

Joe frowned, the alcohol having worn off by now. Looking her in the eye he sighed. "You two been arguing again?" She nodded, actually looking a bit guilty under her older brothers stare. "Rose, you should know better by now."

The younger of the two just got defensive though. "It wasn't my fault." Joe gave her a sceptical look, making her more defensive. "It wasn't! He came here, insulted Sherlock, took the piss out of me, my job, the whole life I've built here; and you expect me not to fight back?"

Seeing the look on her face, Joe backed down, holding his hands up in surrender. "Okay, I believe you." He frowned, remembering all the little spats he'd had with Zach. "I know what he can be like."

Rose suppressed a dirty look; Zach wasn't the same with her as he was with Joe. _Apparently blood does count for something with some people_, she thought bitterly. "All I'm saying is I want to get it over with, sooner rather than later."

Joe looked at the woman sat next to him, knowing that she wasn't one to pull puppy eyes on him, but the fact still remained that she was who she was; Rose Spencer, his little sister. Sighing he took out his phone. "Fine, you win…"

She just gave him a half smile, "Thanks, Joe."

Dialling the number, he put the phone on speaker for her to hear as well.

"_Hey Joe!" _Came the answer. "_What's happening bro?"_

"Hey Zach," Joe greeted. "I got a question for you, man…"

"_Oh, yeh?" _Zach asked, curiosity clear in is voice. "_What's that?"_

Joe smiled at Rose - getting a small smile in return - as he asked, "What you doing for Christmas?"

"_Not a clue." _Zach said instantly, not having planned that far ahead. "_Why?"_

"Well, I'm coming up to London; I thought we could spent it with Rose." Joe said, leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

However it was a few moments before Zach replied. _"Have you already booked it?"_

Their faces dropped. Rose stayed quiet though, letting Joe speak. "What's the problem?"

"_Well, she's being a pain…" _He said lamely. Rose just hung her head, deciding to keep quiet and see how it plays out.

Joe frowned in confusion. "What do you mean _a pain?"_

"_I mean, this whole grown up crap." _Zach said with distaste, grassing up his little sister. "_You know she smokes now_?"

"Yeh, so do I." Joe pointed out as the woman rolled her eyes. "So what?"

"Oh, come on, you know its different." Zach told his older brother, trying to get him to see, though Joe was struggling. "She's just a kid."

"I was a lot younger than her when I got my own place." Joe stated, thinking that they should stay away from the smoking.

Zach scoffed. _"Like you had a choice."_

"Like any of us did…" Joe replied darkly before, picking his tone up again, trying to convince the difficult man. "Still, it'll be the first Christmas together in years."

"_Oh for…" _Zach answered, almost forgetting his language; Joe didn't like them swearing. _"Since when did you get sentimental?"_

"Maybe since I grew up, you should try it some time." Joe shot back, getting annoyed with is brother. "So are you coming or not?"

"_Its not me who's being a b-" _But Zach was cut off, Joe shouting down the phone.

"Oi!" Joe shouted, angry at the man on the other end of the line. "You watch your mouth you hear me, Zachary? Or Rose will be the least of your problems!"

Rose turned her head away at his loud voice, not liking it when either of them shouted; even if it was to defend her.

"_You're kidding me." _Zach exclaimed. "_You're defending her?"_

"She's my sister, of course I'm defending her." Joe replied automatically, looking the woman in question, who just closed her eyes, a single tear escaping but she quickly wiped it away. She was touched that he would defend her, not expecting him to; no one did. But Joe was always different in that aspect.

Zach just grumbled. _"She's my sister too you know…"_

"Then maybe you should start acting like a big brother." Joe shot back, knowing that Zach would only push back again, not yet having noticed his sister.

"_I'm trying to help her, she's a kid!" _The middle sibling insisted.

"Not anymore." Joe told him with finality; this was the end of the matter. "You'll treat her like the adult she's become. I'm spending Christmas at 221B. You're welcome to join us."

Hanging up, Joe put an arm around his little sister, rubbing her arm. Then he noticed that her eyes sparkled in the soft light of the room. Frowning at her quiet behaviour, he tried to see her face, the woman just looking away form him, not wanting him to see her tears.

"Rose..?" He said quietly, worried about her now. Getting no response, he tried again, voice barely a whisper. "Rose, look at me…"

Not able to fight her caring big brother, she looked at him. Seeing her eyes glistening with unshed tears, he frowned, realising how upset she actually was. "Oh, sweetie…" He pulled her closer, arms going around his little sister as her tears spilled over. "Shh… its okay, little sis, he's just a sod…"

She gave a watery chuckle at his words, more than just Zach spinning around in her head; her git of a brother, the man she didn't understand, the nightmare and the man she wanted to protect. All the worry and stress just came out at once there as she cried on Joe's shoulder, only the quietest of sobs sounding now and again.

Joe just held his little sister, knowing that it was what she needed right now; a good cry and someone to just take care of her. It wasn't long before she fell asleep, Joe joining her soon after.

Meanwhile, work forgotten, Sherlock had been sat in the kitchen, listening to everything, the argument, his friend crying. He did nothing to help her, knowing that Joe had it under control; besides, he could do many things other people couldn't but emotional woman were something that was beyond him.

Hearing the silence in the next room, the observant man got up from the kitchen table, walking quietly over to the living room, seeing the two siblings curled up on the sofa, fast asleep, the woman's face still slightly wet with the trail of tears.

Pursing his lips, Sherlock got the big blanket from the back of John's chair, draping it over the two of them so they didn't get too cold. Suppressing a yawn, he decided it was time to sleep for a while.

Going to his room, he got undressed silently, plugging his phone in, leaving it on the bedside table to charge. Getting between the cool sheets of his bed, he let his mind wonder back to the young woman and her brothers; they all care so much, about each other, about obscure holidays…

His family was never like that.

They didn't celebrate Christmas, never saw the need to, even as children Sherlock and Mycroft never saw the point in the holiday.

Sherlock frowned slightly then; Mycroft never had the problems he did with people…social situations….general, regular life. Mycroft does just fine with the things that have always remained a mystery to the curious younger man.

_Maybe there's just something wrong with me…_he thought absently. It didn't upset him, he just thought he was different than other people.

_Uhh…_

Eyes flickering to the lit up screen of his phone, he saw he had a text from The Woman.

_You looked sexy on Crime Watch tonight,_

_Let's have dinner x_

Smirking to himself, he put the phone down again. As he drifted off into a peaceful, dreamless sleep, smirk still in place. He'd changed his mind; there was nothing wrong with him.

But as one Holmes went to sleep, as did the other, mind more troubled as it circled the woman that was in his arms earlier that night and all the little things he enjoyed about her.

_Caring is not an advantage_, he told himself uselessly, knowing he couldn't fight his own mind; nor his heart.


End file.
